Broken Hearts and Bloodstained Swords
by freezingwhitefire
Summary: This is a series of drabbles/one shots about the Feanorions. Most of them will be from Maglor's point of view. Several of them will imply incest between brothers. If that makes you uncomfortable please don't even bother reading them. Rating may go up.
1. MaglorMaedhros:Modern

Maglor/Maedhros: Modern au

A/N: This is kinda a modern au kinda not. I wanted to explore the idea of Maglor surviving through the ages, and him finding Maedhros who was reborn. I tried to get in Maglor's head so it might be a little confusing. There are implications of incest in this so if that upsets you please don't read this.

Maglor had no idea why he looked up at that moment, later much later he would be glad ( _ecstatic_ , **relieved** , _overjoyed_ ) that he had. What ever it was, the glimmer of hair that was red ( ** _fire_** , _copper_ , blood) or just the faintest sense of a almost ( ** _never_** , _not once_ , **nowhere near** ) forgotten fire.

He froze there less than twenty feet away was him ( **Maedhros** _Maitimo_ **_Nelyo_** ). He looked the same, grey eyes that it was so so easy to get lost in, freckles on his cheeks and nose, his mouth curled into a faint smile that he always wanted to taste but never had the courage to. All he had to do was move and he could easily touch him. He could hold ( ** _protect_** _cherish_ kiss) him. Yet all he could do was stare, his mind screamed at him to move. For the first time in years ( _decades_ **centuries** **_ages_** ) he could feel the life, and warmth of one of his family.

The other ( _Nelyo_ **always** **_Nelyo_** ) turned as though he could feel eyes focused on him. Nelyo's grey eyes widened and filled with emotion (was it _shock_ **_love_** **_joy_** what was it?) and he took a hesitant step towards him.

Maglor took a step back, why why was he looking at him like that? He wasn't the one who had died ( _jumped into fire_ **slain by swords** shot with arrows) so why was he being looked at like he was the ghost? He was more alive than the other, the heat of the flames still haunted his dreams at times sometimes mixing with the burning of the ships.

Grey eyes showed a flicker of hurt (don't, I didn't mean to **hurt** you, **_never you_** ) causing him to stop. Nelyo reached out slowly as though he would bolt at any sudden movement. He hesitantly caught the other's hand in his own and held it. ( _Real_ this was real!) The hand he was holding was used to pull him closer. Once the other decided he was close enough he wrapped his arms around him. Maglor buried his face against the other's shoulder. (The fabric was warm, soft, and smelled like cinnamon and smoke.)

He trembled slightly fighting back tears ( ** _joy_** _relief_ Nelyo was _really_ there it was not some illusion.) still clinging to his hand. Nelyo ran his other hand (It was back? How?) up and down his back still holding him securely. Maglor gave a muffled sob and cried now clinging to the other's shirt. Nelyo held him until he was done crying. Maglor leaned against him exhausted, but unwilling to let go. (Don't leave, **stay** , **_need you here_**.)

With a soft chuckle Nelyo picked him up, cradling him in his arms. He leaned against him, hands still curled in his shirt, and looked at his face. Nelyo's eyes were happy and peaceful, and his mouth was curved into a soft smile. ( **HIS smile** he _never_ gave that smile to anyone else) Maglor memorized how he looked again, (never thought it would happen before the world's end) and leaned up to kiss him. Nelyo stopped stunned almost dropping him. Maglor pulled back and closed his eyes bowing his head.

"Kana, look at me." Nelyo requested. Maglor could never refuse a request from Nelyo, and looked at him. Nelyo kissed him gently, then as he pulled back he smiled again. "I missed you, so much Kana."

"Missed you too." Maglor buried his face against Nelyo's shoulder again. "No leaving me again."

"No, not again." Nelyo's voice held the power of an oath, and Maglor nodded tiredly against his shoulder. It might not be much but it was a start.


	2. After the Third Kinslaying

Lost to Fire

A/N: This happens shortly after Maglor and Maedhros find the twins (Elrond, and Elros) and they decide to burn their youngest brother's bodies. This might be somewhat disturbing, so please keep that in mind.

It was hypnotic the way the flames ate at their bodies, fitting too. They had been born from fire, let them return there. He closed his eyes unable to watch any longer as the brilliant flames claimed the broken bodies of his youngest brothers. He couldn't afford to acknowledge the sickening and hollow feeling that seemed to claim where his heart was.

Suddenly a hand settled on his shoulder. He jerked slightly, as though the touch had been a blow instead of the quiet consolation it was meant to be. Of course he knew that the other would never blame him, not for this. This he would blame on the unwillingness to relinquish what was rightfully theirs. The silmarils would be the death of at least one of them he knew.

The hand on his shoulder shook him, jarring him out of his musings again. It was so easy to slide back into them, but he fought it this time, and blinked at the other his eyes finally focusing on him.

His brother waited a second to make sure that he hadn't been lost to his thoughts again before speaking. "I'm going to leave the children in your care. I-" He faltered almost unable to continue. "I can't, please Cana. I can't get attached to another person. Not now, if I lost them it would break me. If I lost you I wouldn't be able to go on, not anymore."

He blinked in shock seeing tears in his brother's eyes. He wrapped his arms around him wanting to offer what comfort he could. "I understand. I'll take care of them." It wasn't a vow, but it was as close as he ever came these days. His brother nodded clinging to him for a long moment. The sound of footsteps reached his ears, and he pulled back giving his brother a smile. His brother nodded reassured not noticing the way his eyes were drawn back to the flames. Yes, it was very fitting. It all seemed to end the way it started. They came from fire, and it seemed they were destined to return there.


	3. Curufin on Feanor's death

Death of a Fire

A/N: This is Curufin's view of the events surrounding his father's death.

Block, parry, dodge, thrust. The motions were endlessly repeating. Yet another wave of orcs appeared. More separating them from each other. It was taxing to fight not knowing that one of his brothers had his back covered, but that was something they had trained to do. He sliced his sword through an orc's throat, and ducked under another orc's sword. He tried to find his brothers or father in this chaos, but none were in his line of sight. After several long minutes he finally broke through the wave of orcs.

Looking up he saw him, his father. A flash of fire told him what enemy he was fighting against. He froze, his legs refused to cooperate, and his heart felt like it was in his throat. Grey eyes widened seeing yet another strike hit, and finally his body could move again. It didn't matter to him though. His father was on the ground. _'Get up! Please, get up!'_ His mind begged. He raced across the distance to his father's side, never noticing when his brothers joined him. Before he knew it he was falling to his knees, and trying to touch him. Desperation fueled him he stripped his gloves off and tried to staunch the bleeding. Nothing worked; his father was dying in front of him and there was nothing he could do.

He had hated and doubted himself before, but this instant took everything he felt and amplified it. One of the most important people in the world needed help yet he couldn't do a thing. He looked around realizing that this was not the place to fuss over him. He tore a strip of cloth from his shirt, and pressed it against the wound he's tried to stop the bleeding of moments before. Looking at the others he saw that they were doing similar with the other wounds.

After the worst of them were bandaged they carefully picked him up. Camp wasn't that far away, and the healers knew to be ready for any who were hurt in battle. They made it partway there when their father asked them to stop. Confused they did, and gently lowered him to the ground again.

He glared at his oldest brother; it should be him supporting their father. After a long moment his father spoke. His voice was strong, not as strong as normal, but with those wounds it was stronger than most of their people would be. He felt a surge of pride; yes he was the son of such an elf. Strongest of their people as far as he was concerned. First his father cursed their foe, then he had them swear again their oath. Readily he swore again the oath. Silently he vowed that he would do what he could to avenge his grandfather, and any other deaths caused by the foe before they reclaimed their rightful possessions.

Then before any of them could do anything his father burned. Neither with fever, nor as though someone had set a torch to his body. No he burned from within, his soul's flame consuming his body. His brothers and he watched in horror and awe as their father left to the Halls of Waiting.


End file.
